Sober
by LovingYouAtFirstSight
Summary: Memories slicing against you, pain stabbing at you, feelings of sadness and neglect showing themselves. You are not you when you are sober, and that is why Meth is your only option. WARNING: Mentions Drug and Sexual Abuse


For Pairing Diversity Boot Camp – George Weasley and Luna Lovegood – Prompt: #29 Denial

For Quelf – Card #1 - Blue - Can't use the word AND More than eight times

Card #2 - Green - Romance; Life is a song - sing it. Life is a game - play it. Life is a challenge - meet it. Life is a dream - realize it. Life is a sacrifice - offer it. Life is love - enjoy it - Sai Baba

Card #3 - Purple - "I don't do cocaine, it looks too harmless, I mean just think of it as a colourless pixie stick, I do meth,"

…

The worse moment after a high is the realization you are slowly sobering up. You can feel each pain receptor tingling, itching to wake up, to provide you with pain you cannot control. Memories start to flood back to you, dark twisted memories. Of your mother's body mangled in a position she could never return from. Of your uncle, taking care of you, if that was what you could call it. Of your father, excitedly injecting 'a magic elixir' into you, that eventually you relied on.

You stand in a room full of people you know, needing a reason to leave, just for a hit, a shot that will keep you going until you get home. You method of choice never was meth, but it last longer than alcohol, and the effects are harder to spot, although during school you were sure many caught on.

Memories flood through your mind, coming back harder and faster. Your father's fists crashing against your fragile frame when he lost his high. Your mother crying night after night, against an already tear stained pillow.

You have to escape this, the pain pricking lightly against your skin, hitting rocks against your heart, it will get worse, it always does. Your heart beat quickens as everything in your vision becomes slightly less colourful. Nargles that occupied the corner are slowly hiding away. The pixies you had come in with are now leaving without you. But you can't move you have to suffer this pain, this horrible reminder that you are broken. Finally, as if all your luck was dictated by that moment, a window of opportunity opens up. A break in the service, the migration from funeral to reception, and a lucky break you have never been fortunate enough to receive.

You smile at the dull pale faces, trying desperately to get away. After only minutes, but what feels like a lifetime you are alone, walking slowly down the hallway. Your heart is pounding in pain as more memories flood back.

Your father, laughing about your confession to affairs with your uncle. Your Uncle's dark happy smile behind him, happily waiting for the night to fall. Dark hallways, winding and twisting with no end. Sleepless nights, and monsters in your closet that will never leave you.

You burst into the bathroom, the light barely making a difference in the horribly sickening room. But this is the moment when all you feel is relief. Relief that you are alone, relief that you will finally be normal again, at least as normal as you can be. Then you feel it; the stab of relief hit your thigh, and slowly the pain fades, you can smile again, because this all makes sense. Colour floods back into your mind, and the pixies have joined you again, sanding by your side, like no one else ever was.

"Luna?" A frantic voice makes its way past the beating of your heart in your brain. A panic floods through you; how you could forget to make sure you were alone. So you turn slowly, thinking quickly of an excuse, any excuse to erase the panic look on George's face.

"Is that cocaine?" he asked innocently. It is always adorable to find people like this in your life, innocent beings who believe you can inject all drugs.

"I don't do cocaine, it looks too harmless, I mean just think of it as a colourless pixie stick, I do meth," you say lightly, hoping to get out of here, your high is back and you want nothing more than to relish in the colourful world.

"Are you kidding?" George asks but his voice is like a liquid, dripping away.

"Well it is like a magical version of meth, I suppose," you say dreamily.

"This is not okay," he mutters, but what does he know, he does not see what you see, so you ignore him and start leaving the room.

"Luna," he repeats drawing you back. Not because you believe his lies, but because no one has ever sounded concerned about you. Not even the pixies that are pushing you away from him.

"Leave me alone," you mutter at them and turn back to George.

"What?" you ask politely, because when you are this high, you can't be as rude as you feel.

"I am here for you," he says. These words are not liquid, these are sharp indents in your life, no one has ever meant that and you are not falling for it again. "I was before, and I will be again," he says. Memories sting against your mind as you fight them away.

"You left me," you remind him sweetly.

"I had to fight in the war just like you did," he confessed.

"While you were fighting I was being abused and tortured," you smile at him. "Do not tell me you are there for me, when you have no idea what that means," you sweetly add, the bite getting lost in translation.

"I was fighting a war bigger than both of us," he says desperately. "But we both survived, even if you don't think you did," he says softly, tapping into your inner fear. Maybe just maybe, you did not survive.

"I am not in trouble, just need a hit every now and then," you lie, because it is much more of an addiction than that, but it is much easier to lie to yourself.

"I know," he lies. "But if you ever feel trapped, I will help un trap you," he adds. He is lying, you know that and so do the pixies, but for a brief second you feel warm and happy. Then you leave him standing in the bathroom to enjoy your colourful day, until it all starts again.

**A/N: **I haven't done an Author note for a while, but this caused for one to avoid flame. I love Luna as a character; I think she is funny and unique. I do not think she takes drugs or needs to in order to be her quirky and lovable self. However, with the prompts I was given this is the story that came to mind. So please no flame.


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